He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. “It’s nothing to what I WILL do. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. " "Bah!" ejaculated Marvel, gruffly.
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